


Break Ride

by LittleLinor



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Awkward First Times, Consensual Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>also known as: Shingo Komoi Is A Nerd And Reads Too Much Romance Fanfic<br/>Shingo/Naoki, cute first time shenanigans featuring an awakening in kink, bad romance novel tropes, and Shingo's Blaster Dark/Blaster Blade OTP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sacae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacae/gifts).



Here is how Shingo Komoi had not pictured his first kiss: Naoki's desk pressed into the small of his back, hands cupping the back of his head, dimming late afternoon sun casting shadows on the walls, his newly revised Narukami deck still clenched in his hand.  
Not that he's thought about his first kiss that much. Shingo has always liked tales and stories, but it's never been hard to figure out that the knights in stories aren't usually frail, bookish nerds. Romance was something that happened to others; it happened in stories, especially, and _those_ he could live vicariously; he's never had a dearth of characters to work with, not as a kid, and even less as a teenager, once he got addicted to vanguard and new units, new lore came out every few months to bring more depth and complexity to his world and its relationships.  
So he's thought about romance. It's just that he's never really applied it to the narrative of his own life, not in many years, anyway.  
And really, who is he kidding, with the way his eyes follow Naoki out of classrooms, with the way he's started playing against him more than is reasonable because seeing him win and seeing him lose each have their own, slightly addictive charm (there's only so much "training" he can justify when Naoki has become as good as him, if not better), with how often he'll tease him just to hear him argue back. There's something almost palpable there, to the patterns of his attention and moods, but it's not something to be given shape, to be put into words. There is no scenario in which something happens. No scenario in which there is something there to happen.  
He just lets it subtly flavour his life, and turns back to writing stories instead (the one where Blaster Dark fought through the corruption of space to get his lov--his _friend_ back (the unedited version still sits on his hard drive, unpublished) even if it means fighting him definitely has nothing to do with anything).  
So when Naoki invites him home ("You wanted to make a Narukami deck again, right? I got some cards from back when I was playing my Eradicators that could spice up your old one without reworking from the ground--and you can stay for dinner if you want, my bro doesn't come until late on Fridays and it's lonely cooking for one person") it doesn't mean anything; it's not the first time it happens, nor will it be the last. He calls his mother, shoulders his bag, and walks the increasingly familiar path to Naoki's house with him.  
Except somewhere between the card swapping and the moment Shingo was planning on asking him whether he wanted to get a head start on their homework together so they'd have more of the weekend free (Naoki is surprisingly quick-witted, and his sharp insight combined with Shingo's expansive memory and work discipline make a surprisingly efficient combo), Naoki looks at him, takes the quiet but rarely vibrant voice Shingo has only heard him use on a handful of serious occasions, and _apologises_ , before he's even done anything.  
And then his hands are on Shingo's neck and his lips on Shingo's lips, and Shingo has no idea what to do.

He hadn't pictured it, the way he does so many other things, so there were no words in his mind for the sensations fighting for attention at the front of his consciousness right now. The wood of Naoki's desk biting into his back where he's pressed against it. Naoki's hands, surprisingly careful (delicate, even, like the way he handles his cards between punches, like the way he handles everything he actually cares about), one on the back of his neck, the other cupping his head, as firm as they are gentle. The curve of his spine as he's tilted just slightly backwards so his face is angled up to make up for their difference in height. Naoki's breath filtering between his barely parted lips and against Shingo's own.  
He feels all of it at once, and his brain frantically sorts through them, trying to take notes, to print down this moment for reference, jumping from one to the other in a daze until it finally hits him that yes, Naoki is pressing him against a desk and kissing him, and all the contents of his head suddenly still.  
This is how it goes, in his head, his paradigms hurriedly rearranging themselves:  
He kisses back. Naoki takes it as an invitation and presses harder against him (because, somehow, his hips and legs _aren't_ pressing into him yet, as if despite his hold he was keeping a respectable distance), possibly sliding a leg between Shingo's own, and it locks him in place because Naoki's so _tall_ , he's finally noticing right now with his head tilted back, tall and wide and strong. Shingo's arms go up around his neck, and then he has to be the one to hold them together because Naoki's hands are roaming his body, sliding under his shirt. And then Naoki's weight presses him down and he's on his back on the desk, or grabbed and carried to his bed, nervous but too happily shocked about what's happening to complain about what comes next.  
He's read enough to know how it happens.  
He kisses back.  
Naoki tightens his grip, makes a small noise in his throat, and pulls away.

For a moment he's just left there blinking (and panting just a bit, he notices after a short lag), and then his brain goes into panic mode because _that's not how it's supposed to go_. He's not sure what to do with a Naoki who's pulling back, Naoki who's kept close but let go of him. He's not sure what to do now he no longer has a lead to follow.  
It crosses his chest like a flash of loss, for something he hadn't even known he wanted (hadn't even let himself want) until now.  
"Ishida..."  
Did he do something wrong? Did he not respond fast enough, or was he not supposed to kiss back at all? Surely kissing back was the right thing to do, right? Not attempt to outdo him, but communicate his enthusiasm?  
Naoki smiles at him, but it's more than sheepish, it's hesitant, like he's ready to run away.  
"... sorry, I--"  
"Did I do something wrong?"  
It slips out in a hurried mess before he can stop it, and Naoki looks back up from the ground and at him, face startled.  
"What? No!"  
"Then what--"  
"It's not that! I just--" he bites his lip, makes a small grimace of frustration. Shingo just waits, suspended, heart beating painfully against his ribcage.  
After a few silent beats, Naoki speaks up again, more quietly.  
"... can I just show you?"  
And that feels so weird too, Naoki asking for his _permission_ , but he nods.  
Naoki gives him a shy smile and takes his hand.

At first he's just holding on to it, looking at their hands held together like he's having as much trouble processing things as Shingo himself. But before Shingo's nerves can make him bail out, his face takes a more serious expression and he brings both hands up, higher than Shingo's chest, up to Naoki's neck.  
And with only two fingers, the rest of his hand still gripping Shingo's own, he undoes the first button of his shirt.

He's seen Naoki without a shirt before, but the sliver of skin that appears as the button falls open catches his eye and draws him in. He stares at it, barely revealed between the folds of fabric, and then at his hand, still held in Naoki's own, Naoki's fingers curled around his palm.  
Naoki lets out a shaky breath, and his chest moves under his shirt, almost quivering. He looks up at Naoki's face, finds it serious, determined, but also surprisingly quiet, gentle. Insecure. Inviting.  
He brings his second hand up to join his and Naoki's, and undoes the second button.  
It takes him a few seconds. He's not used to working on someone else's, much less someone a head taller than he is, and Naoki's hand is still on his own. And most of all, he can feel Naoki's body against the sides of his hands, through the fabric of his shirt. Funny, the things he'd never noticed in years of dressing himself up.  
He finally pushes the button through, and Naoki gives a slow sigh, his chest rising and falling under Shingo's fingers. He keeps his hand on Shingo's, but when Shingo looks up at his face (he's smiling, a little tense, but tentative happiness in his eyes), he nudges them down a little and then drops it, letting Shingo finish the movement himself.  
He does. It takes him some looking down at his hands again and a bit of fumbling, but he gets the third button open, and by the time he does, Naoki's breath has picked up, coming audibly through his barely opened mouth.  
And it doesn't make any _sense_. It doesn't make sense for Naoki to be so moved by something as simple as opening his shirt. It's not as if Shingo's even _touched_ him.  
And suddenly, he wants to. He wants to touch, to see how Naoki would react to _that_ , to feel his exposed skin under his fingers. He undoes the fourth button, a bit hurriedly. Calms himself down and undoes the fifth.  
When he looks up, Naoki's face is flushed, his half-lidded eyes focused on Shingo's face. He's biting his lip as if to stop himself from smiling.

"Ishida..."  
"S-sorry!" His voice is a little light, and stretched with what almost sounds like laughter. "Nerves."  
Shingo huffs.  
" _You_ 're the one who sprung this on me."  
Naoki looks about to apologise again, but before he can, Shingo's done with his shirt and has brushed fingertips up his stomach, and he draws in a harsh breath instead, shoulders falling down.  
" _Shingo_ ," he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, and that, if anything, is what convinces Shingo that yes, he wants to pursue that line of thought.  
There's something in Naoki's whole reaction that he wants to _see_. To catch and bring to the surface.  
He trails his fingers further up Naoki's stomach, and feels something inside him harden with determination when Naoki lets out a small noise.  
He wants more of it.

 _Go slowly_ , he tells himself. Analyse the situation, take notes.  
Angling his hand to trace his muscles with his fingers (there's more of them than he thought or remembered--a tribute to all the times he's been invited at sea), he finally remembers his second hand and brushes it up Naoki's chest, palm and all. It gets a shaky sigh out of him, but rather than stop there, Shingo keeps moving, up and to his collarbone, and finally to his neck.  
Naoki tilts his head back slightly, and--he wants to explore there too, make him bare more. He can feel him swallow under his fingers, breathe, can feel his pulse against Shingo's own skin. It's almost too much.  
He sneaks his hand to the back of his neck instead, and pulls, gently enough that Naoki can follow his movement without being at risk of hurting himself.  
"Come here."  
The order was quiet, but Naoki follows it anyway, bending down and following his hand, and Shingo pulls him down all the way to his level to kiss him, his other hand digging fingers into his skin.  
And Naoki _moans_.

It takes him a couple of seconds to register, and then he's the one who's blushing, hard enough that his cheeks heat up.  
There's no way you were the one to cause this, the little voice that still tells him he's never the hero in his own story whispers into his ear. Here he is, playing at pretending he has any idea what he's doing, and under his hand...  
Under his hand, Naoki is _yielding_ to him, as if he wasn't an untamable force who weathers any assault by bending and standing strong again. It's as if he's riding a wave that Shingo started but can barely keep a grip on.  
It scares him. Not just for his own sake, but for Naoki himself, Naoki who feels like he could just wash away.  
And yet... yet there's something there that he doesn't want to give up on, the happy exhale Naoki leaves against his lips when he breaks away, the way the arm he's caught himself with when he got pulled down is warmly nestled against Shingo's side, the way his neck curls into Shingo's hand.  
He pulls him closer, kisses him again, harder, and lets his hand tighten in the roots of his hair when Naoki moans again.  
And it makes Naoki gasp and press closer to him with a whine in his throat, lips opening, and Shingo can't help but deepen it, and he knows he's awkward about it but Naoki's voice is rising to meet him anyway.  
It brings something warm and thick to his chest, a buzzing sensation through his heart and muscles, this idea that he's allowed, he's allowed to touch him and grab him, that being even remotely possessive is okay. That Naoki isn't pushing him away but moving into his hold, even when he's being a bit forceful-- _especially_ when he's being forceful, his mind provides. And he's seen Naoki fight against terrible odds before, he knows that if he didn't _want_ it, Shingo's pretend control wouldn't last a second. But being allowed to touch him, when he'd barely allowed himself to _want_ (but oh, how he'd wanted it, he finally admits to himself now), that brings a kind of vertigo that leaves him dizzy.  
He wants to tighten his grip on him more, to bring him under his control where he looks so _happy_ (happy and passionate--he's always wanted passion, hasn't he?--and baring himself as much as he can), but he has no idea how to do it, how to bring forth that kind of power.  
He has no idea what to do.  
So he ends up clinging to him instead, breaking the kiss but keeping him close so he won't run away.  
"Naoki..."  
Naoki gasps (and god, he's blushing again), and presses a little closer.  
"Yeah?"  
"I'm--" The words spill out in panic before he can stop them, all his pathetic issues coming to the open for Naoki to see. "I'm sorry I'm not good at this, I'll try, I'll--"  
"... what are you talking about?"  
He sounds so confused that it actually calms Shingo down, kicks him out of his circular thoughts and into something closer to reality. He takes in a deep, slightly shaky breath, looks down for a second, and then finally pulls Naoki close again, more gently this time.  
"I don't have any experience... I'm not going to be any good at this." I can't give you what you want. I'm not worth it.  
"But you're already plenty good? Shingo--what makes you think I want someone with experience? I wanted _you_."

Somewhere, Shingo's brain resets. It takes it a few seconds to find its way back to his head.  
"... you did?"  
"Well yeah? I kissed you, didn't I?" He sneaks his hand between them to catch Shingo's, the one that was still flat against his chest, and seems to hesitate a bit before lacing his fingers with his. "... I was scared you'd push me away, you know."  
"What? Why would I--?"  
"Well..." He looks down at Shingo, and his face is wearing the sheepish smile Shingo knows so well, but with an extra taste to it, something soft and intimate. "I wasn't sure you liked me, y'know? I mean, I kinda thought you did, or I wouldn't have _tried_ , but I wasn't sure, and..." He looks away a little, before bringing his eyes back to Shingo's face. "... I was scared you'd think I'm a weirdo."  
It's Shingo's turn to stare (they've been doing a lot of staring, and it's starting to feel kind of awkward, but it's also reassuring, in a way. If Naoki's scared too, he doesn't feel quite as out of his league). Slowly, understanding starts to make its way into his mind.  
He asks anyway. He's beginning to understand the importance of actually asking and saying things.  
"Why would I think that?" He keeps his tone gentle, an squeezes his hand a little. It makes the bond between them feel stronger, less likely to fray. No longer like Naoki could just wash away.  
It feels safe.  
Naoki chuckles a little.  
"For wanting stuff like this," he says, nuzzling Shingo's wrist where it still rests against his neck, its hand still buried into Naoki's hair. "I wasn't even gonna _ask_ , I figured it was too much... but you went and did it anyway." He laughs quietly. "I thought... if you were okay with touching me, that'd be enough... I'd have been happy with that."  
"... but you wanted more?"  
"... yeah."  
"... tell me."  
Naoki blinks.  
"What?"  
"Tell me what you wanted. Maybe I don't have experience, but I can _try_ if I actually know what you want."  
And Naoki's blushing again, deeper than before, his eyes darting around in what almost looks like fear, but his body staying put in Naoki's arms.  
"I-- well, sometimes I'd think--" He gives a deep, hasty sigh and hides his face in Shingo's shoulder. "Shingo, it's _dumb_..."  
"I'll be the one to decide that," he answers in what he hopes is a firm tone. And then more gently, rubbing the back of his head. "... come on. I won't make fun of you."  
Naoki lets out a kind of frustrated whine against his shoulder, and god, it's so _cute_ , he can't help but grin and rub his scalp more.  
"... y'know how you kept joking about how you'd work me until I dropped or crack the whip on me or stuff like that?" He takes in a deep breath. "Well. I thought... I thought maybe that'd be nice, okay?"  
The last words come out mumbled with embarrassment, but they still reach Shingo's ear, and for a moment he's speechless, half because he's having trouble processing the idea that Naoki would want something like this, and from him of all people, and half because he can't picture himself ever having the guts to admit something like that and he's suddenly in awe.

"... it's weird, huh?" Naoki sighs, but it snaps Shingo out of it and makes him rub the back of his head again.  
"It's not weird." He tries to picture it in his head, tries to paint what Naoki's eyes would be like if Shingo did this, his face...  
And is suddenly very glad that Naoki can't see _his_ face.  
"It... does sound nice," he pushes out, in the most neutral tone he can muster.  
"Really!?"  
He's pushed himself up with his hand on the desk, and Shingo wonders if he realises how intimidating he would be bent over him like this if he wasn't also _beaming_. As it is, the eagerness and surprise, the flush on his cheeks and the way his hair is all in disarray only makes him look cute, like an overly excited puppy. Before he can catch himself, the hand that had been on the back of Naoki's neck has gone up to pet his hair and--he didn't know that smile could shine even _brighter_.  
"You actually want to?" Naoki asks again like he can't believe it.  
Shingo smiles and keeps petting his hair (it's a nice feeling, calming and grounding and soft, and the way Naoki moves into it almost imperceptibly makes his heart warm up).  
"I'll have to look things up first, but yes."  
Naoki giggles.  
"That's so you."  
"I want to do things properly. I don't want you to get hurt."  
"... thanks." He bends closer and rests his head on Shingo's shoulder. "That means a lot, you know."  
Shingo huffs.  
"It's only natural. You should expect more from people, Ishida."  
"Awww, I'm no longer 'Naoki'?"  
"... you will be if you tell me what you want me to do right now so I can get to know that part of you better."  
Naoki loses his balance a little and has to lean more of his weight on him, and Shingo feels a playful beat of satisfaction.  
"Wh--wait, right now?!"  
"Yes, right now." His tone is slightly haughty, like the know-it-all persona he likes to put up to cover his insecurities, but he keeps petting Naoki's hair. "I know you can do it. Show me some of that courage, Naoki."  
Naoki hides in his shoulder.  
"Y'know, letting you do what _you_ want's part of the point," he mumbles.  
Shingo chuckles.  
"I can learn to do that, but you'll have to help me with it." He tries his best to put on a confident, teasing voice. "Besides, don't you think it's _fun_ to make you ask, too?"  
And it was definitely worth the effort, because Naoki muffles a little whine into his shoulder.

After a few suspended moments, Naoki sighs, and makes himself relax before finally speaking.  
"I liked... I liked when you pulled me down... and when you gripped my hair." He takes another deep breath, and lets it out when Shingo starts petting his hair again, the pressure of his fingers just a little more insistent. "I liked... letting you touch me. Letting you... explore?" He hesitates for a second, then continues. "I think it'd be cool to do that... when I can't move at all."  
Well, Shingo understands _that_ one, at least. His mind springs to take notes as he does his best to hide the way his breathing picked up at the thought.  
"Anything else?"  
Naoki's voice is a bit more confident when he talks, this time.  
"... I like this, actually. Having you _make_ me say stuff." He pauses, chuckles. "I think I like being a little scared."  
That surprises Shingo a little. He rests his head against Naoki's own, nudging it slightly with his cheek.  
"Really?"  
"Yeah. Dunno why."  
And there--a little intake of breath, like he's about to say more, but the silence stretches, and Naoki's head feels heavier on his shoulder, his breath a little fast.  
"... go on. Tell me."  
"I think..." He takes another shaky breath, and actually straightens to look Shingo in the eye. "... I think I want you to hurt me a little."

For a long, stretching moment, the only thing in Shingo's head is a quiet _oh_.  
It makes sense, when he thinks about it, when he links back together all the things he's said so far. And there are little things, too, the way Naoki moaned when he pulled on his hair, the way he always seems to take what people throw at him in stride. He remembers the pain his mind was put through back when they fought to un-reverse the school.  
But somehow, he hadn't put it all together. And Naoki, standing bravely in front of him, looks more vulnerable admitting to it than he ever did, even when he was being strangled by vines.  
What he feels, in this moment, is a fierce jab of protectiveness, spreading from his heart to his bones.  
He straightens in turn, reaches up to pet Naoki's hair, and squeezes the hand he's still holding.  
"... how?"  
Naoki blinks. As if he hadn't expected acceptance, and that makes Shingo even more determined to give it to him.  
"I... I dunno?" He chuckles, scritches the side of his face a little. "Not sure on the details--I kept trying _not_ to think about it, so..."  
"But you were thinking about it."  
"... sometimes."  
He looks slightly guilty, and almost sad. Shingo frowns, and presses fingertips into his scalp.  
"Naoki."  
Naoki looks up.  
"Hm?"  
"You can think about it now. All right?"  
And Naoki looks at him and nods, before a tiny smile spreads on his face.  
"Thanks."  
"You don't have to thank me," Shingo says, and somehow he manages not to huff and push up his glasses.  
Naoki smiles wider and presses closer to him, and Shingo is suddenly reminded of their difference in height. He sighs and pulls his head down a little, getting a small giggle out of him.  
"... so. Do you want me to try?"  
Naoki gasps, then whispers: "Yes."  
But before Shingo can figure out what exactly he wants to do, Naoki's straightened a little and added: "Oh, but maybe we should move? You keep having to reach up."  
"What do you have in mind?"  
"I could sit? Or we could both sit--or, well. Bed."  
And maybe he should be taking this as a hint. He's not sure. But--he doesn't think Naoki would just beat around the bush if that was what he was after, not when they've been talking so much. And the bed does seem like the most practical solution, if he wants to be able to reach anywhere.  
"Bed is fine."  
Naoki grins. And picks him up.  
"Wha--"  
He starts spluttering, but before he has time to fight back, Naoki's already carefully carried him to his bed and sat him down on its edge. And he's grinning with a happy, stupid, satisfied smile.  
"You didn't have to do that, you dumb punk," he mutters.  
"I thought it'd be nice?" He grins. "That way you didn't have to move."  
Shingo sighs, and adds Is There Such A Thing As A Service Kink to his mental to-research list.  
"Yes, yes, thank you. Now sit down," he says, patting the bed next to him to hide his fluster.  
Naoki sits.  
"Not on the edge. Get closer to the wall." So I can get closer to your lap if need be, he adds mentally.

Once Naoki has scooted back and folded his legs in front of him (he _did_ consider making him kneel, but he's not sure how long he could last, and his priority is comfort and not putting any pressure on either of them), Shingo finds himself trying to figure out what to do.  
 _I think I want you to hurt me a little_ , he'd said, but Shingo has no idea _how_ , aside from vague concepts of whips and canes he's never lingered on and has neither the supplies nor the knowledge for anyway.  
 _Take your time_ , he tells himself.  
He moves closer to Naoki, and tugs his opened shirt off his shoulders.  
"Want me to take it off?"  
"Yes," Shingo answers, and he sits back and lets him, watching.  
There isn't that much to watch. Naoki looks too excited to really take his time, but the way he rolls his bare shoulders back to shrug the shirt off what's left of his arms and to his wrists is still nice and surprisingly sensual. He slips it off his wrists and seems to remember at the last moment to not just throw it away, vaguely hanging it off the end of the bed instead.  
And Shingo suddenly finds himself questioning why he was _hoping_ Naoki had no ulterior motive, rather than deploring it.  
 _Slow down. He won't get less attractive in a week. Two weeks. Whatever time it takes to be ready._  
But that doesn't mean he's above taking a little taste anyway, so he moves closer, lays both his hands flat against Naoki's stomach, and brushes them up to his chest. And really, he needs to _do_ something about Naoki's reactions, or at least about his own response to them, because Naoki's eyes instantly flutter shut and he's moving into Shingo's hands like Shingo couldn't touch him enough, and that's probably what makes things click, what makes him press against Naoki and slide one hand over his shoulder and the other around his side, bring them both to his back, and sink his fingernails into his skin.

Naoki gives a light, almost inaudible little gasp. It flutters into Shingo's ear, and his back curves, not away from Shingo's nails but into them, like he's trying to drive them deeper in. They're rather short, though, so after his initial moment of surprise at his reaction, Shingo decides to move his hands. He keeps the pressure as steady as he can, and claws down Naoki's back.  
His reaction is a little more substantial this time, though still not the one he was expecting. Naoki shivers, the buzz of it travelling down his back against Shingo's hands, and he nuzzles into Shingo's shoulder, letting out a gentle hum, something almost like a purr, something delicate and aroused and comfortable.  
You would have thought he was caressing him with his fingertips rather than raking nails down his skin.  
But it's a start, and that reaction, that noise are so _endearing_ , he finds himself dragging them back up, and then down again, along a different path, and listening to his breath and voice as he works at his skin.  
"Naoki?" he whispers after a couple of minutes.  
"Mmmmm?"  
"Are you okay?  
"Yeah..." A sigh. "'s good."  
"All right." He drags his nails down again, closer to his side this time, and revels in the way Naoki nuzzles his shoulder in response. "... should I go harder?"  
"Yeah."  
The answer was so instantaneous that it makes him chuckle and shake his head. But he brings one of his hands up Naoki's back anyway--there's not much more he can do _here_ without better supplies on hand (or better nails--maybe he should grow them), but he does remember other things Naoki mentioned, and he's had time to put together a few ideas.  
He combs his fingers through Naoki's hair, takes as much of it as he can in a firm grip, and _pulls_.

Naoki's head falls back as he drags it away from his shoulder, and this time he cries out, eyes shooting open and frantically looking at the ceiling before settling back down on Shingo's face, with some difficulty.  
He's gasping a little, his breath interrupted by little periods of silence until his body reminds him to breathe, every few seconds. And when Shingo twists his hand tighter, he lets out a shaky moan and presses his body against Shingo's chest.  
"Is that the kind of thing you wanted?"  
" _Yes!_ "  
It's husky but earnest, and it drags back into a slight moan when Shingo bends forward to kiss his neck.  
He kisses up its side, then down, and then stops himself right on time.  
 _Too conspicuous_.  
He moves to his shoulder instead, far enough that the mark wouldn't show even with a tshirt, and sucks on the skin, before actually biting and working it between his teeth.  
Naoki lets out a high pitched whine, and he can't help but bite harder and tighten his grip.

 _You're getting carried away._  
The thought hits him suddenly, and he lets go of Naoki's skin, pressing his forehead against Naoki's shoulder to calm himself down and think.  
... and the thing is, he _is_. He's letting himself get carried away by Naoki's voice and Naoki's body in his arms, and it's all very nice but it doesn't change the fact that he's winging it, and there's only so far he can go before they _both_ get carried away, or before an accident happens.  
And he doesn't want accidents. Not when Naoki trusts him.  
He releases his grip on Naoki's hair and slowly guides his head back to his shoulder.  
"Shingo?"  
"Let's slow down, all right?" He pets Naoki's hair to give himself composure. "Can't have too much of a good thing, can we?"  
There's a short silence, and then Naoki chuckles against his shoulder.  
"You're damn transparent, y'know."  
Shingo raises an eyebrow. Then he realises that Naoki can't _see_ him, and pulls just a little on his hair instead.  
"What was that?" he asks in what he's not even really trying to make a convincing threatening voice.  
"Nothing!"  
He's still laughing, but that's not a bad thing. Rather than waste time playing at bullying him, Shingo pushes his shoulders away, shifts so his back is to the wall, and pulls him back against his chest.  
"Better," he declares in his best haughty tone, and Naoki just smiles and curls against him, covering most of his body with his significantly larger frame.

After what feels like a good half hour of Shingo just letting his fingers explore Naoki's body as they cuddle, sometimes with fingertips, sometimes with just a bit of his nails, Naoki lets out a sigh that sounds much too close to sleep, and Shingo realises he has to take action.  
Not like he would _mind_ falling asleep with Naoki in his arms, but then Naoki's brother would get home and possibly find them there, and that's more explaining than he cares to do right now.  
So he ruffles Naoki's hair.  
"Weren't you going to cook for me?"  
"Hmm?" Naoki blinks, looks up at him, and finally straightens, shooting up suddenly like he hadn't been on the verge of sleep five seconds before. "Oh yeah! I totally forgot--what time is it?"  
"Don't worry about that." He stretches and sits up. "It's Friday. We can eat a bit late." Naoki steps off the bed, and he follows suit, stretching his back again. "Do you need help?"  
"Nah, I'll manage. You can set the table if you want."  
"I'll do that."  
He watches Naoki pick up his shirt and pull it back on, and catches his hand before he can go down to the kitchen, pulling him down for a kiss.  
"Don't think dating you means I'll go easy on you at the club, you wannabe punk."  
Naoki grins.  
"Well I _hope_ so. I'd have been _really_ disappointed."  
And, really, he's not sure what he expected.  
He should have seen that one coming.


End file.
